The election is now upon us. Which way it will go I don’t know and what the results for the US and the world might be one hesitates to predict. But as we get near the end of the campaign I find myself thinking of things ending, particularly autumn, still with more than a month left in it but getting into it’s later part now.

Autumn is my favorite season for several reasons which I won’t elucidate in detail right now; and maybe also for some subconscious reasons I don’t recognize. It leads to the holiday season which nearly everyone likes or at least wants to like. But the autumn has both a recognition of the end of things(or something, anyway)and a glimpse of what may lie ahead. And in that, I think, is much of its appeal.

I have not written a great deal about music, but it is a large part of my life and I could hardly live decently or with any satisfaction without it. I love Sirius radio which I have only in my car. And when I’m travelling about town I’m nearly always tuned into Jazz or Blues or ’60’s gold. So this is a big deal to me.

And as I thought of the end of the campaign and the decline of autumn, two songs came to me, or parts of them. The better known one is “September Song,” from the 1930’s and written by the great Kurt Weill and by Maxwell Anderson whose main achievements lay in other kinds of writing. The more(but not too)recent one is “When October Goes,” by Johnny Mercer and Barry Manilow. If you keep reading, which I hope you will, you’ll get to hear a bit about both of them.

I remember “September Song” from childhood. It was often on the radio and I think I likely heard it on the big Victrola type console set my parents had– or maybe it was one of the little more modern radios. Anyway, it goes back a long time in my mind. The most important lines and the ones that stick in my mind and I’ll bet lots of others are–

Oh, it’s a long, long time from May to December

But the days grow short when you reach September

When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame

One hasn’t got time for the waiting game

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few

September, November

And these few precious days I’ll spend with you

These precious days I’ll spend with you

The song was, as mentioned above, a collaboration between American poet and playwright Maxwell Anderson and German composer Kurt Weill. It was written for a 1930’s musical, “Knickerbocker Holiday.” The play has not survived to a large degree in American memories, but the song certainly has. The music is gorgeous and the song would not work without its beauty. But it is, of course, the lyrics that grasp the heart and the personal memories of our own past and maybe the country’s and the world’s too. But I think it works mostly at a personal level.

It is difficult to read or hear these lyrics without experiencing that clutching feeling–clutching at time which is slipping away, at relationships which may be fleeting, and at life itself. It is more poignant as one grows older but my recollection is that I was deeply moved by these words even when young. And now that that time is long past for me, I also clutch at my memories of music, what it has meant to me over the years, and that it too fades and changes as the autumn of the decades erodes the seasons of composers and lyricists, of musicians and singers and– even listeners.

If you know show business at all you have likely heard of Kurt Weill. Maxwell Anderson you may not be familiar with unless you are a fan of American theatre history. He wrote a great deal, including dramatic plays, apparently some comedy, and poetry. “Knickerbocker Holiday”(which I was not previously familiar with–it opened on Broadway in 1938)sounds like an offbeat story, an oddish mixture of comedy and historical seriousness, based on 17th century New York and with Peter Stuyvesant as one of the characters. Stuyvesant was a stern political leader and not a fun guy according to my recollection of NY history. This makes for a strange sounding setting for “musical comedy,” but there it all is. Contrary to the usual impression of him, Stuyvesant is the one who sings the song with its reflections on love and regret. He was played, incidentally, by, of all people , Walter Huston.

In any event, it is the song here of an older man contemplating marriage to a younger women and imagining the possible joys and issues of such a match. And unlike the usual view of the historical character we know, he presumably contemplates with sensitivity and thought. And the song has had its effect on fans for the better part of a century. The end of something always grasps at the imagination.(I think Hemmingway did a story with that title, not a very good one in my opinion). Beginnings and endings have a great power over us and we can’t help thinking of broken love affairs, fleeting youth and mortality. This song says it all.

“When October Goes” is a more recent song and less well known, I think. But to me it is even(slightly)better than “September Song.” The words come from a series of lyrics which songwriter Johnny Mercer had worked on before his death. He had also become a follower of Barry Manilow, perhaps because of Manilow’s “Mandy.” Mercer and his wife had a daughter by that name.

After Mercer died the lyrics lay abandoned in a desk for several years, but in the early 1980’s Ginger, Mercer’s widow sent them to Manilow in the hopes he could make more than one song out of them. Whether he succeeded in that I don’t know, but he certainly did one. He completed what would become “When October Goes” and set it to his own music. The result is stunning, a 1930’s type song finished and finished magnificently by a 1980’s(and later)personality.

The song begins with the author/observer watching children playing on an autumn day and reflects on the fun he remembers from that time in his own life. Then he goes even heavier —

And when October goes

The same old dream appears

And you are in my arms

To share the happy years

I turn my head away

To hide the helpless tears

Oh, how I hate to see October go

There is not a whole lot you can say after hearing or reading that, I guess. You may imagine the words coming from a middle aged person or an older one, from a male or female, from a person of nearly any culture. And the effect would be the same. We all long for love, some find it and some don’t– and we all eventually disappear.

It’s a tribute to the human condition or an important part of it, I think, and however much this song has likely not been heard by that many people, it is a piece of magic which I hope is kept in memories and libraries– and, of course on the internet and whatever recording devices may appear in the future. I particularly hope that the several videos of this on the Internet will survive, for the world would be less without them.

Apparently, this song was a favorite among cabaret fans or at least cabaret singers. Of all those I watched/listened to on line I’d have to say that the creator of the music, Barry Manilow, has the best version. But they are all good and worth hearing and it’s worth also reading short on-line bios of the singers. There are some incredible true stories in some of the singers’ cases that match the mood of the song. Love and loss, joy and pain and regret will never disappear as long as there are people; and writers, singers and their followers will never tire of writing, reading and hearing about it. It’s an addiction, perhaps, but considering the choices, it’s the best one that occurs to me.

Listen to this music with an open heart and read some of the details of the people singing it on these videos–Robert Goulet, Rosemary, Clooney, Nancy Lamott, Nancy Wilson, and Diane Schuur to name just a few. Listen to them croon and drift and dream through this gorgeous and profound song. Some of the details may break your heart as much as the music. But somehow I think you’ll be glad you did.